


Flowers on the sand

by jeza_red



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Community: norsekink, Multi, OCs by the dozen, brothers in distress, working trough the issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-15
Updated: 2011-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-26 02:25:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeza_red/pseuds/jeza_red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor jumps after Loki. And then there's desert, slavers and cat-faced people, and real trouble begins.<br/>Written for the prompt: http://norsekink.livejournal.com/3231.html?thread=7048863#t7048863</p><p>Revised and fixed - this time all of it^^</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was not the first time Thor has seen his brother bleed, but it was the first time he was completely incapable of making the bastard responsible for it kneel in the dirt and beg forgiveness. He couldn’t ignore it, couldn’t tear his eyes away from every drop of blood that fell on the hot sand, every little trail of red that marred Loki's pale skin...

He swore death and pain to the creature with the whip. He was ignored of course, and it made him only angrier. What he really wanted to say, to yell at that twisted, ugly thing was: " _You dare to touch sons of Odin, you filthy dog, you will pay for that!_ " but every time the words were ready to slip past his lips, he bit down on them.

Loki was very determined to make him understand why exactly he shouldn’t even mention Odin and Asgard, not to say their identities.

" _Right now_ ," his brother whispered to him frantically on the third night after their capture, “ _Right now we're just Aesir, just two men who can be sold into slavery or not. If they know who we are... we'll be more precious to them than the rest of their cargo. They will guard us and there will never be a chance to escape._ "

It made sense. Being "just" two men, just... common slaves... was better, it gave them a shade of chance. Loki was smart, he would find a way to get them out of bonds and away from that wretched caravan full of captives and slaves herded like cattle by these soulless creatures .

It was so easy to believe up until now. Until their captors caught Loki stealing keys and decided to make him an example of why it was a bad idea.

Thor, of course, would have nothing of it. But without Mjolnir in his hand, and shackled in more iron and magic that he could lift, he was no danger to the guards. Soon enough he was thrown down and tasted bloody sand on his lips. But he hasn't stopped fighting. He couldn't stand, let be it, he'll crawl then!

Only he couldn't crawl when one of the guards delivered a crushing blow between his shoulder blades with the shaft of a spear. Thor lost all feeling in his body after that.

But he could still look, and so he did. He tried to catch Loki's gaze, to look him in the eyes and make him understand that… _It will be okay, please hold on, I will find a way to get us out, brother_... But Loki wasn't looking at him, Trickster's eyes were closed tight and his face was as white as a sheet.

Thor was close to crying when the whipping finally stopped and his brother's body was released to fall face-first into the hot sand.

The guards left then.

Loki was lying on the ground, in the scalding heat of the desert sun and hasn't moved. Thor called out to him, again and again, himself unable to move. He eyed the dark stain on the sand around his brother's body as it grew and felt his own blood freezing in his veins. No, NO! He will not allow it! He will not see his brother die like that, like a dog curled into dirt! He will not have it!

 

"You are... stubborn... man..." An awkward voice spoke behind Thor, and the Thunderer felt someone touching him, gripping his arms and pulling him up. He wanted to fight, to throw a punch and hit, strangle, kill... "You... Aesir... are stubborn..."

The face Thor looked into was like nothing he's ever seen - or maybe he did, just not from this close. "Muspell..." escaped his dried out throat, but he didn’t have any strength left to fight.

The fire giant smiled a truly terrifying smile and patted Thor’s back. The blow almost sent him to the ground. The giant was big, two heads taller than Thor himself, but slight and slim, which of course didn’t mean he wasn’t strong enough to lift the fallen man with ease. He wasn’t... exactly ugly, as his brethren tended to be. Excluding red skin and scars marring his face, he could be almost taken for an Aesir or a Midgardian.

Thor's head reeled from the exhaustion, though, and so he decided to leave all unnecessary thoughts for later. Now he had to...

"Here... slow," the giant pronounced carefully, clearly not used to speaking Alltongue. That's right, Thor remembered, in Muspellheim they didn’t speak, but instead make sounds like crackling fire. But that was also shoved away when the giant lowered him to the sand, just by Loki's side. "You... heal him?"

Even if he could, Thor wouldn't know where to start. His brother's body was covered in purple welts and deep cuts. Blood flowed sluggishly, thank Norns, wounds were drying up in the merciless heat, but that didn’t mean anything. Loki was still unconscious and Thor, more than ever, felt hopelessly useless.

He reached with one hand (a move that brought him agony, but to Hel with it!) and tried to lay it gently on his brother's tangled hair. He didn’t know what to do.

He heard quiet jingling, as if someone walked past him covered in little bells, and it took him a moment too long to realise that the sound was coming from him! Chains and shackles covering him from feet to neck made that quiet sound when his body shook in misery and pain. This little thing almost broke him then and there...

"No good. Lot blood missing." He started when another voice spoke close to him. Not the ice giant, no, this one belonged to the young woman with a... face of a cat. She was covered in scraps of fabrics, dark-skinned and small, but she moved with a grace that was a sight to behold when she kneeled in front of the Aesir. "Mate not good, need healing," her words were even harder to understand than the fire giant's, but the meaning of them caught Thor's attention. "I heal mate," her one small hand pointed to Loki and Thor could see that her every finger ended with an ugly scar where the nail should be. That sight made something inside his chest clench.

But he nodded, because there was nothing else he could do. The cat-woman looked to the fire giant with a nod before standing up with the same unrivalled grace. The giant nodded back and, without a word, scooped Loki into his arms and walked away.

Thor wanted to protest, to demand explanation, to stand and follow... he couldn’t. His body reached its limit it would seem and even speaking was now beyond him. He barely felt these small, clawless hands gripping his shoulders with an unnatural strength and bringing him to his feet. He half-walked, half-stumbled, leaning on that small creature too much for his liking, but that wasn’t important. She was strong enough. She was kind enough to lead him so he would follow for now, because his eyes saw only blackness.

*

When Loki finally opened his eyes, Thor was sound asleep by his side, curled around him like a mother wolf trying to protect her cub even in her sleep. Loki found it equally endearing and annoying, but when he tried to say so... his body caught up to him and he could only grit his teeth together and _try_ not to make a sound.

Oh yes, whipping. How could he forget? His body was on fire and he could barely breathe, clawing weakly at the collar that bound his magic in a way that terrified him more than he could voice. He couldn’t heal himself and couldn’t mask the pain, so instead he focused his attention on the closest thing that could help him forget about it.

Thor's face looked awful. Bruised and haggard and dirty, his beard matted with blood and his hair...

Loki bit his lips, this time not from pain, but from anger.

His brother's golden hair. The spun gold Thor has inherited from their mother – gone. Shaved almost to the skin, burned in the bonfire. Gone.

Loki dared to lift his hand to, hissing in pain, run his stiff fingers trough the short blond fuzz their captors left on his brother's head.

And then he realised that his hand is wrapped up in a scrap of clean fabric. He looked at himself and discovered other such wrappings – on his arms, his chest and around his neck, where the collar bit into the skin. Who would...? Surely not Thor...?

"You sleep," Loki almost jumped out of his skin, when a quiet, hissing voice whispered to him from above. He and Thor were lying in a tent, in some kind of a nest, made of fabrics and dune grass and... That woman had a face of a cat.

"Mate sleep," she spoke slowly, her golden eyes wandering to Thor's still form. "Mate tired. You healing. You sleep."

Loki honestly didn’t understand a thing and his brain was currently short-circuiting when another face appeared next to the cat – this one red and disturbingly not-ugly.

"Don't... mind... her," the not-so-big-giant spoke slowly and, by Gods, smiled. "You are... safe... for now, sleep... while you... can."

Which was a pretty sound advice, Loki's body decided before it proceeded to shut off. The Trickster was not amused, but he didn’t get a chance to protest – only a second to hide his face under his brother's chin, a safe, familiar place, and promise to himself that he'll get them out of there as soon as possible.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

If he knew how it will end Loki would've never let go of the spear.

He would have hold on and let Odin pull him and Thor on the Bifrost, he would have found different way of escaping, calmed down and started plotting revenge. Or maybe apology. Something...

But he let go, looking into his brother's face and cursing him to Hel and back in his mind. He was mad and full of hate, determined to make his "family" suffer for all the things he's suffered until now. He was elated seeing Thor's blue eyes widen in fear when his fingers slipped off the golden shaft of Gungnir...

When Thor let go of Odin's hand, that elation turned into horror.

*

The fire giant was a baffling thing to behold. He was the strangest giant Loki has ever seen – the Trickster suspected that there has been an Aesir in the close ancestry. Probably a grandparent. The most baffling thing wasn't giant's looks, though, but his apparent... friendliness.

Yr, he's said his name was. Another slave, bound by a magic and unable to escape. It was his temporary tent that Loki and Thor has been recovering in. His and that cat-woman's.

"Mate drink," she said, kneeling by the nest they were resting in. She handed them a bowl of water looking at Thor expectantly. Loki, annoyed, but unable to move just yet, didn't yet know what to make of her. She wasn't very friendly and her speech was terribly hard to understand, more so than the fire giant's... but she was helping them. She's helped him. "Drink."

Loki knew he should be grateful ,– and he was, because she didn't have to and she was just another slave, and water was precious goods in the heart of the desert, – but  he was being paranoid. He's got a good reason to be, after all.

She seemed to like Thor, though, always looking his way when she was done with Loki and staring mournfully at his shaved head. Trickster hoped it's just a simple matter of his brother's rugged charm coming into play at all times. They didn't need another distraction.

And speaking about distractions... Loki decided that he was going to personally skin that bastard who whipped him. As soon as he can move freely again, that means.

Cat-woman eyed them stoically when Thor shifted his weight and pulled himself to a half-sitting position, taking the bowl from her hand. Loki knew what was coming and he absolutely refused to let it happen.

"Give it to me," he whispered weakly, lifting his own bandaged hand. "I will not have you treat me..."

"Shut up, brother," Thor sighed and brought the bowl to Loki's lips. "Conserve your strength and drink, please."

Loki glared all he was worth, but that few gulps of warm, stale water were worth a lot so he didn't dare to waste even one drop. Their captors were scanty on food and drinks and not once during their captivity (he didn't want to think how long it has been already) both brothers has seen fights break out over them.

To think that not so long ago they were drinking the best wine and mead, and had their share of the finest meats in Asgard. It is all so full of irony that Loki wanted to laugh, but he only sighed and licked his lips, feeling them already getting dry.

It was hot. So damnably hot. He hoped that the caravan won't be moving for another few days. Whatever the cat-lady was doing to heal him, it was working, but not fast enough for Loki's liking. He didn’t bleed anymore, which was a good thing, but he couldn’t move much yet and that annoyed him and made Thor worried. And worried Thor, as Loki has learned when they were very young, tended to regard personal space as something inconsequential and unnecessary.

He crowded Loki.

Which was frustrating, because it wasn’t as unpleasant as it was supposed to be.

"Rest now, Loki," his brother whispered, getting up to the jingling of chains. The sound was grating. "I will see about some food. You... just rest."

Loki glared at the retreating back that was not as proud and wide as he remembered it from the past. Thor walked hunched, weighted by the chains and shackles and fatigue. It was a scary thing to see and so the Trickster turned his eyes away; only to wonder when it became so.

*

At first he was almost happy.

Just after they were caught, still dazed from the fall to that strange land of hot sand and endless sky; an easy prey. They were bound and tugged along like animals by creatures that weren't much bigger than them. Their captors have been revolting; short, but made of corded muscle beneath rough, grey skin, no necks to speak off and entirely too many arms. What creature would require six of them, Loki had no idea.

Loki didn't really take the situation seriously enough in these first few days. He was possibly too stunned by the last week of his life – by too many things happening, too many things finally making sense and hurting at the same time. So he wasn't trying nearly hard enough for both of them. No, he was just watching his brother being essentially his brother.

Thor fought. Oh, how he fought them. When he didn't, he was unconscious from the blows meant to keep him calm. When he wasn't that, he was glaring daggers at Loki, blaming him for the whole situation and demanding reasons for his actions.

Reasons that he dismissed as untrue in true Asgardian fashion. No, of course they were not to blame! Father? How dare Loki spit on their parent's holiness?!

There were fights, yes, but since they couldn't fight physically, Loki won them all. He was the wordsmith after all. And then he was amusing himself watching his brother try to unload his anger at the closest possible target and be punished for it.

It was... inspiring, to see his perfect, strong sibling beaten into submission day by day. It was almost worth the heat and meagre meals.

The best part was that Thor kept getting back up. And again. And again. Even as more and more iron and magic was put on him, he wasn't staying down.

But, after a while, it stopped being fun. It started being uncomfortable to watch. And then it turned to being painful.

"Stay down! By Norns, stay down!" Loki snapped at his brother one night, when the beating ceased and the slavers left. Driven by some strange sense of pity he dragged Thor under one of the big, solid carts, all the time cringing at the state of his battered body. "Stop fighting them!"

"I will not... die as a dog... curled into… the dirt..." Thor wheezed and Loki wanted to slap him; as much good as that would do them.

"You won't help yourself by being kicked to death! Stay down and save your strength for later!"

"That's your way... Loki," He couldn't decide if Thor's eyes were full of disgust or pity as he said these words. "Not... mine..."

And that was the wrong thing to say.

"It's the way I survived, you fool!" Now hitting the oaf sounded like a good idea. "But of course, it's a coward's way! Disgraceful for a son of Odin, isn't it? Better have me die in an uneven fight, perish in an honourable way, is that right?"

"No, Loki..." Thor tried to backtrack, his eyes suddenly wide.

"Better have me dead than alive as I am! Then at least you will have an excuse for few more toasts at the feast!"

He's left his brother then, struggled away from him to gather his wits and calm down, and hate quietly.

But he never went far. None of them ever wandered far enough into the camp to lose the sight of the other. It should have been a clue.

*

They’ve stopped fighting, because the caravan kept moving and the days were too long and too hot - there's only that much energy one can waste on pointless anger. And, under all of this stupid bravado and hate, they were both afraid. It was a completely new state for both of them, to be so hopeless and without an idea how to change it, that they didn’t know how to deal with it at all.

They stuck together, because they were alone in a crowd of strange creatures that mostly weren't even humanoid. Enough that they were far from home; there was no way they could survive on their own. Thor, who's got himself a nice, jingling body-armour for his stupidity, and Loki, who was not strong enough without his magic to fend off monsters barehanded. He was a skilled fighter... but it was so damn hot all the time and he could barely move...

*

"Eat." Her again.

Loki opened his eyes and saw the cat-woman shoving something in his face. It was a scrap of meat – not overly fresh, barely roasted over the fire, but in this state the godling would've eaten a dead mouse just to give his body some kind of sustenance. But wait, if she's here, so where is... Oh.

Thor was asleep again, plastered to his back, but at the same time not causing him pain. It was... unsettling how gentle his brother could be if he put his mind to it.

"Did he eat? He also needs..." Quiet hiss interrupted Loki. Cat-woman dismissed his concerns with a wave of her scarred hand.

"Mate eat, then sleep. Mate sleep much, tired much."

Loki made quick work out of decoding that message and one part struck him especially hard.

"He is not my mate," he stated. "He's my brother."

Her look didn't change.

"Mate," she nodded.

"Brother," he corrected sternly.

"Brother," she pronounced slowly. And then nodded and said, “Mate."

Loki opened his mouth, but halfway through decided to leave it. He was hungry and as soon as he regains his strength, he can go back to planning that little "skinning alive" project of his.

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

The caravan started moving forward again in three days, just when Loki started to make slow, careful steps around the tent and stopped sleeping in Thor's arms. As safe as it made him feel, it was way too hot for him to deal with his brother's furnace-hot skin. Cat-woman got her bed back and Loki settled on sleeping under one of the carts, where he had more room and more air. And it was still safe, because Thor kept to sleeping close, leaning on the carts' wheel.

Sometimes Loki woke up to find his hand stretched out, fingers clenched on the fabric of Thor's torn shirt, and sometimes he didn’t even have the strength to snatch it back.

*

On the third day they're all woken up by the sound of spears hitting shields and yelling of the slavers. They're herded into groups, chained to the carts and the caravan moves.

Loki tries to keep up, he tries with all he's worth, but the sun is too hot, and there's no shade to hide in, and his body is still weak and hurting. Sand beneath his naked feet is scaldingly hot and slippery, few times Loki almost falls. Every time there's a strong hand that grasps his arm and steadies him. He doesn't have to look to see who it belongs to, enough that he hears that constant jangle of metal on metal. He doesn't look, but he can't stop listening; he starts counting Thor's steps, tracing his moves from the sound alone and that's the only thing that exist to him in a long while as his body walks on auto-pilot.

There's a moment of clarity when a shadow falls over him and Loki is forced to look up. He sees red. A red mountain topped with a tired smile. Yr walks just behind Loki, and the half-Jotun realises he does that to shade him from the sun. He is so grateful he would cry if he had any water to spare.

He dares to look to the other side, to search for his bother and finds him just a few steps away. The cat-lady is walking with Thor, leaning on his hip, so small that she can barely reach his chest – the sight makes Loki instantly angry, but he does not dare to think why. He's too tired to be angry anyway.

"She is... stronger... than she... looks..." Yr says and Loki opens his eyes again and finally sees it.

It's not her leaning on Thor, but the other way around. That little creature is leading his brother, whose steps are more uneven as the time goes by; her little arms strong enough to steady a grown Aesir.

Loki stops looking and focuses on the sounds again. He prays to Norns for... not for help, not anymore, he's not that naive anymore. He prays for the day to end, for the caravan to stop and for the sound of chains to cease.

*

When they finally stop, it's dark and it's cold, but Loki can't feel it. Slaves are falling to their knees where they stand and he is no different. He feels a big, warm hand rest on his arm and he pats it once, tanking for that weird comfort.

Guards are stalking among them now, throwing around pieces of food as if they're feeding chickens. Loki struggles to stand and reach out for one, as a misshapen creature walks past him. Battered and in pain, he's still faster than some of the others and manages to gather a few pieces of weird fruit and dry meat. He tries not to think about the feasts he and his brother have attended in the past.

He looks around for Thor and finds him sitting by the cart, with a cat-woman gone. He stumbles in that direction, but stops in place when one of the guards kicks his brother in the shin, as he walks by. Loki's heart stops – he's not sure if it's from fear or raw anger, – and he stares. He half expects Thor to leap to his feet and fight and... it's not happening. Blue eyes cast one look at the retreating guard, hot as Hel itself, but it lasts only a second to be replaced with a look of shame when they meet Loki's eyes.

Not once in his life the Trickster wanted to unsee something so badly. Not even his hands turning blue or his father crumbling to the floor. Not even fear and disappointment in his mother's eyes.

*

_They barely started to talk with each other again - both stubborn as mules, guess it runs in the family after all - when Thor attacked another guard for spitting at him. This time he managed to pull the creature down and smash a first onto its ugly face._

_Loki had to admit  it to be not an unpleasant thing to watch. Other captives were cheering all around them, but when the rest of the guards showed up, they quietened down. Guards didn’t save their spears and kicks; Thor was a bloody mess within moments._

_Loki turned away then, feeling justified anger bubbling in his chest. He's told his brother to stop being an idiot, didn't he?_

_But then, from the corner of his eye, he saw a sun shining off a blade and his blood turned cold. Surely they wouldn't dare..._

_He stood, preparing his body for something he knew wouldn’t succeed, but he couldn’t stop himself. It was a habit born from hundreds of years of being a brother, of loving his sibling. He wouldn’t let them kill his only..._

_It turns out that it wasn’t not their purpose at all._

_Ice in his veins turned into a molten lava when first lock of golden hair fell on the sand. All Loki could see was his mother's face, framed by these same golden locks, and his little chubby fists reaching for them. Young Thor's smile turning into a frown when Loki's older and more slender fingers pull on his hair for sport._

_He didn’t go, didn’t stop them, he was too smart of that. He wouldn’t win; even if his chain allowed him to get that far._

_Loki just watched and hated. And vowed revenge_.

*

He looks to the side, swallows a dry breath and stumbles forward.

"Here," he drops the food he's gathered at their knees and selects one fruit that reminds him of a fig. "Eat, brother. Then we will rest."

He's so thirsty he doubts he'll manage to fall asleep, but it's all he can offer to his sibling.

Fire giant appears after a while and sits beside them, refusing gracefully when Loki offers him some of their meagre meal. Cat-woman comes later, carrying a jar of water (no one knows where she's gotten it from, but no one asks anyway) that she's pushing at Thor who takes few measured gulps before handing it out to Loki.

"Mate, drink," she says. He doesn't argue about semantics with her anymore, he just listens.

 Thor is so quiet it's almost surreal. He eats, then drinks, then leans on the carts' wheel and just breathes. Loki looks him over with a careful, gentle eyes and curses at the sight of dried blood marking the shackles around his wrists and seeping from under the collar. It’s not a good sight at all.

 He unwraps bandages from his own arms, he's almost healed and he doesn't need them anymore. Thor starts when he presses the fabric under the collar and grabs Loki's hands.

"You need it more," he whispers and these blue eyes are so kind, so earnest... so honest, that the Trickster has to swallow a sob before he can continue.

"I am as good as I will be," he speaks harshly, “with or without these rags. Now stop getting in the way, you oaf, and sit still."

Thor smiles at him in misery and closes his eyes.

Loki is almost grateful that he has no water to spare.

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

They travel for days and weeks, and maybe even months, Loki is not sure, because each day is the same as the one before it: scalding heat, blinding sun, scraps of food and little sips of water the cat-woman always manages to somehow find. 

And that damnable rattle of chains that's impossible to get out of his head.

Loki doesn't feel tired anymore, doesn't feel thirst and hunger- he just doesn't feel the difference between 'now' and 'then' anymore, doesn’t remember anything else – feasts and luxuries of Asgard are only a faded, noiseless memory in his mind. He can't focus on anything properly and finds that it scares him.

Only thing that keeps his attention is trying not to fall into the sand. And his brother.

He looks out for Thor, whenever his hearing fails or the sound of chains drifts too far away; he looks around frantically and searches for his sibling that was never his real family... not by blood, anyway.

When the dark falls, the caravan stops and they can finally fall down. Loki is momentarily more alert. He busies himself with checking on Thor's wounds, tending to the skin shredded raw by the heavy iron in any way he can. He re-wraps the bandages he's managed to squeeze under the shackles. Thor allows him to fuss over himself and doesn't protest when Loki calls him names for the stupidity responsible for the state of things. Meanwhile, the  cat-woman goes away, disappears like smoke, and Loki doesn't even care. Yr usually brings them whatever food he can scavenge – the giant doesn't eat, as he’d explained, he's a creature born in a realm of fire; desert's sun seems to be enough for him.

They form a sort of strange little pack now, the brothers and those two strangers. They stick together and try to look out for one-another and Loki has a feeling that is the only reason they haven't went mad yet. That, he's grateful for, because going mad in this situation would be just so over the top he cringes inside whenever he’s thinking about it. There's drama... and there's overdoing it – whispers a quiet voice in his head, a spark of old Loki, a Trickster and a smartass.

It's strangely reassuring to Loki that the only voice in his head is his own. 

*

Thor falls where he stands. The cart he's been walking by stops and that means he can rest. His body screams in protest every time he moves, but he ignores it. He's learned to ignore pain at a very young age: being the greatest warrior of Asgard is no small feat to achieve and it takes a lot of pain to acquire the necessary skill and strength.

Sometimes Thor thinks that he would be able to walk even as his heart stops, repetitive motion of step-after-step keeping his dead body going. It scares him, that thought; more so, because that is not what a good brother does, is it? Leaving his younger kin behind, alone and…

"Eat." The fire giant gives him a piece of fruit and Thor obediently puts it in his mouth. It's sweet and not very fresh, but it's a food and that's all that matters.

He looks over to Loki to make sure that his brother is also eating. He is, good. It's all so simple now, just walk, eat and rest, and don't let them kill you, don't rise your head.

The god of thunder sits quietly, focused on food, when his sibling leans over to check and re-wrap his wounds. They're a constant pain, but he's learned to ignore them too.

"How are you today... brother?" he asks, the rasp in his voice frightening. It seems that even his voice is dried up and crumbling apart. Loki gives him one sharp look that means more insults than actual words can bear, but Thor has to ask. His brother doesn't do well in heat.

Since they were children, since Thor can remember, Loki always seemed to tire faster during the summer months, his eyes always half-closed and his moods darker. Loki didn't like heat...

And now it was so obvious. Thor tried not to think about it – every time forced himself not to think about it – about that one, off-chance that his brother might have been telling the truth and wasn't really his brother. His brain rebelled against that very thought, that they would... that all these years they’ve spent together... that his father...

Thor would not have it. He _could_ not have it! Loosing Jane was hard enough, losing his father's approval was even harder and loosing Mjolnir in all that chaos that erupted on the Bifrost was just as painful... losing one more thing would be too much. One thing that was with him since he could remember – losing the thought, the surety, that he will never be alone. Never by himself, that even if his friends turn from him, he'll always have his brother by his side...

"I thought you were the worst thing that's... ever happened to me," he isn’t sure he's said it out loud until Loki's green, feverish eyes look up at him. There is a kind of mute horror growing in them, so Thor quickly adds, "When I was five."

The horror is still there, but irritation is slowly killing it. Oh well, only one of them was good with words.

"You were crying... or just laying there and staring. You would not fight me and when I poked you..."

"Thor, you are rambling."

"...you would only cry harder." Maybe he was, maybe not. But it's a way of remembering, of trying to deny that cruel truth before having to stand up to it. "And then one day I poked you in the stomach..."

"Thor!"

"...and that made you hiccup. And my hair turned green."

Loki could not look more flabbergasted if he tried and the expression of utter disbelief on his face makes Thor smile even wider. "I've never seen mother so proud as she was in that moment," he finishes.

"I take... I take you stopped poking me after that," Loki tries to sound sarcastic, but it is clearly a lost cause with the corners of his mouth trying to climb up to meet with his ears.

"Of course not," and Thor isn’t guilty in the slightest. "I wanted to see what else you can do... right until mother forbade me to enter your room."

"So you were born an idiot, that's good to know," mutters Loki, knotting a strip of blood-stiffened fabric over his left wrist.

Thor shrugs lightly. "But it made me reconsider. I had the only brother in whole Asgard who could hiccup people into different colours, who wouldn't want that?"

Trickster's hands still at that, his posture suddenly tense and shrinking away without actually moving. Thor lowers his head, even at the cost of pain and being barely able to lift it up again, just so he can mutter one thing: "I haven’t regretted it ever since."

His brother is completely still at these words and after a moment pulls away, green eyes suddenly wary and suspicious and, oh, how it hurts. To realise it's not the first time he sees this look, and that many times in the past he choose to simply ignore it.

"Mate, drink." Cat-woman appears like a ghost, her steps always so quiet. She hands Loki that same worn bowl with water and settles herself under the cart, close to Thor. It breaks the tension between brothers and Loki grasps the chance to pretend that nothing has happened.

Thor watches shields fall down behind his green eyes and mourns. 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

It's strange and it's distressing, and Loki doesn't know how to deal with it.

The thing is… he knows how to deal with people who despise him. He knows how to defend himself from all kinds of verbal attacks – he is the master of them after all, – but every armour has a weakness. And his weakness is his biggest flaw. Loki knows that he can't take kindness of any kind.

Because since he can remember, no one has given it to him freely – no one besides closest family – and, even worse, he always craved it. Like a dog, a disgraceful cur, pet his head once and he'll follow you everywhere.

So Loki fixed this crucial inadequacy in the only way he knew: he stopped believing in kindness; it was better, safer to believe the worse of everyone and keep his heart to himself. And he was right, as no one showed him care anyway when it became clear that he's not the noble, idiotic being like the rest of them. 

And now this oaf of a brother turns around and shatters his defences away? Now?!

 _No_! It's too late, Loki thinks furiously, too late for an apology and these little tales that don't mean anything. It was the past, now is much more complicated and unpleasant, and his brother can't hide behind these half-assed confessions!

He will not forgive that easy, he will not...

"Are... you... alright?" 

Yr leans over him, his massive shadow falling on Loki's face like a healing balm. It's so hot. He more stumbles than walks ahead and the mess in his head is not helping in any way.

"Yeah," Loki breathes out, trying to shove his hair out of his face with one shaking hand. Good thing that he's made sure a long time ago that he'll never have to deal with facial hair. Any more heat right now would surely kill him. "I am just... just tired. But that's nothing new... right?"

He starts walking before Yr gets the idea of carrying him into his red head. But he doesn't get far before he hears a jingling sound of falling chain and Thor's muffled groan. He moves faster than he thought he's able to in this state.

Thor is sitting in the sand, his body bowed and breathing laboured. Cat-woman fusses over him, hissing and poking and trying to pull him up. Yr stops the cart they're all chained to just when Loki falls to his knees at his brother's side.

"What's happening?" He asks, frantic, reaching to lift Thor's head up. "Look at me and tell me who I am. Open your eyes, brother!"

There's a hiss by his side and voices all around them. Guards appear, shouting for them all to move forward.

Thor's hazy eyes are too bright in his tanned face. He opens his mouth and tries to raise his hands, but the iron cuffs are too heavy for him to move. Loki knows that a normal human would die under their weight a long time ago and it's the testament of his brother's strength and endurance to keep walking until now.

But he wouldn't have to, if only Loki could use his magic and get them out of there.

If he's never let go of that damn spear!

"Get up, brother!" he orders, his own body weak and barely moving as he tries to pull Thor up. "We have to go, come on, stand up!"

He struggles and the cat-woman tries to help him, but the guards are already on them and suddenly Loki can't breathe. The air burns his throat and he coughs, dropping back on the sand.

"Get up!" he wheezes, trying to breathe normally and failing. "Get..."

"...Loki..." that one whisper from Thor's lips stops his frantic struggles. His brother is not looking at the guards and suddenly it is very quiet all around. Loki meets his eyes and reads surprise in them, shock and a quiet sort of terror.

 

It's not the guards, he realises, that look is directed at him. So he looks down at his hands, still grasping Thor's arms and he recoils... or he would have if one could recoil from one's own body.

His skin is blue.

When the guards grab him, he's unable to move, still shocked and confused _and wanting to rip his own skin off!_  But soon he stirs, because they're dragging him away from Thor, who reaches out for him and yells something, and Loki is sure of one thing – that if he lets them drag him away, he'll never see his brother again. And as much as he might hate the stupid brute, he loves him just as much and all of it is just too much.

Too much!

So he struggles and fights. His feet sink into the hot sand, his nails are sharp as his teeth and he makes use of them, because there's no way he's going to be taken away again! First Odin, now these... monsters! He will not go anywhere he doesn't want to go!

They’re stronger, of course, and armed and he's just a shadow of his old self. Jotun body is even less protected from the heat and it doesn't take a minute for Loki to exhaust his strength completely. He starts to hyperventilate and his vision is going black. He just about manages to see Thor – his brave, stupid brother, reaching out to him and then it all becomes black.

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

He regains his consciousness few times, every one of them lasting no more than few seconds. His body is too weak to move, his mind clouded with exhaustion and fear, and a burning need of finding... something, someone, who would make it all right. Loki is not sure “what” exactly has to be made right, but he knows that there’s a presence around that can make him feel better just by being close.

He is cold and hot by turns, freezing and boiling almost at the same time. He subconsciously reaches for his magic and... can’t find it. It’s not there; something is standing in the way. It scares him almost to death.

He doesn’t know where he is, his vision is blurry and weak, but he manages to hear voices around him, – not human voices, not Alltongue. It’s hissing and rumbling, and growling. Loki thinks he recognises the hissing part; right with the occasional poke that his hurting body doesn’t appreciate in the slightest.

But mostly he’s just drifting, trying to gather himself together and not succeeding in the slightest.

Until he finally does – only because something tells him that the presence is there at last and it’s safe to come back. It’s safe to open his eyes.

So he opens them and first thing he sees is the face of a cat, which is pretty scary, but he knows that face so he doesn’t panic. Loki looks around and finds himself in the same tent he woke up... in the past, after that one whipping. He is laying in the nest of rags and grass again and... it’s safe. It was just a dream.

He lifts his hand to wipe cold sweat from his face and almost screams.

His hand is blue. It wasn’t a dream, it seems.

Now Loki regrets waking up at all.

“Awake?”

He forces himself to nod at the question of the cat-woman. There’s no strength in him to move, and she doesn’t seem very eager to help him sit up, so he just stays down. No point in moving, he still hurts.

His body is not the source of pain, though.

“What... happened?” he has to ask, because he’s Loki and knowing things is his second nature. He has to know, has to start planning again.

Has to forget the look in Thor’s eyes when he saw...

“They take you,” cat-woman answered quietly. For the first time since he met her, Loki can trace some kind of softer emotion in her eyes. She sits by him, ears lowered, long sandy hair framing her solemn face. “Changed colour,” she points at him with one scarred finger and Loki fights himself not to look away. “Jotun, they say. They take away, you... precious. Small. Far from home.”

This time Loki has to close his eyes, as he swallows bile rising in his throat.  Of course, he thinks, what else? A Jotun runt, novelty. A freak. There’s no other like him in whole universe, he’s sure of it. He wants to laugh, but can’t. He just can’t.

“How I am here then?” he has to move along, no point in despair now. “They took me... how much time has passed?”

“They take you,” she repeats, “and you fall. No move, no words. You sleep days. You almost die.” And now it is her turn to lower her eyes. Such a strange thing to see. “They call me to heal. I... don’t know how heal you.”

For some reason Loki feels an urge to grab her small hand in his and reassure that strange creature that’s kind to him without any reason. He doesn’t of course, because for one, he doesn’t care to see his hands as they are now, and he is not sure that his touch won’t scald her skin.

“They lock you away, and you worse. Mate angry.”

Thor.

He wants to ask – it’s almost on the end of his tongue, but he doesn’t. Not yet.

“Why did they let me go?” he asks instead.

“I tell them you sick,” she perks up, golden eyes suddenly boring into Loki with unexpected resolve. “I tell them you away from mate.”

“What? It doesn’t make sense...”

Oh, but it does, Loki just doesn’t want to admit it. Sometimes his brain works too well, connects the dots too fast for his liking. Because there are things one can’t un-see and there are things on can’t un-think.

“They take you from mate, you and mate die.”

“But he’s my brother!” the protest is weak and Loki is aware of it. He is not fighting, no point in that. But he needs more time before it all comes together and doesn’t make him sick anymore.

“Mates stay together,” cat-woman hisses harshly and points at something behind him. “Then left alone.”

She stands and leaves. For a moment Loki can see the night sky when she lifts the flap of the tent. He doesn’t want to turn around, because he knows what’s there. Who’s there; he can hear a heavy breath and feels the heat radiating from the body lying just behind him.

He wants to see, but can’t look. Can’t really move in all honesty.

So he doesn’t. He lies there in the nest, curled like a child and thinks. He lost too much time, now it’s the time to think how to free them both.

*

When Thor wakes up, chime of chains stirs Loki from the restless half-sleep he’s managed to fall into at some point. His body stiffens and he lies perfectly still just listening. It’s still night and the camp is quiet.

There it is, shifting and a loud intake of breath. And then silence.

He would prefer if his brother started first – then he will have the luxury of adjusting his strategy to Thor’s mood. So he waits, and tries not to shake apart.

There’s another sound of movement, small one – a rising of the hand, Loki decides. But the touch he steels himself for never comes.

“Is it... may I touch you, brother?”

Loki’s heart clenches painfully.

“I don’t know,” he forces out. “It may burn you... “

It’s better to focus on the practical things right now, Loki decides. He’s never touched anyone in this... form. He doesn’t know if his skin is cold enough to cause frostbite. He doesn’t really want to know either.

“Why did it...” Thor speaks quietly, barely a whisper, as if he’s trying to calm some skittish animal. “Why now?”

“I don’t know.” And Loki really doesn’t know. But he has his theories. “It may be because they sealed away my magic. Or maybe it’s the heat. Or maybe we’re too far from Asgard. Father...” He swallows heavily. “Father never explained to me how he made me look like... ” Him. You. Mother. Not a monster. “...Aesir.”

It hurts and he has to stop thinking about it. It’s not a time for despair; they have to start getting back on their feet and get away from this place before it kills them.

“She’s got me away from them,” Loki changes the subject.

“I know. I don’t know how, but she’s managed.”

“She’s a healer, they don’t have their own and so she’s of use to them.” It all makes sense now. “She told them we’re a mated pair.” Out with it! The less he thinks about it, the less it will matter. It’s not a bad plan even if Thor takes another loud breath behind him. “She convinced them that we will die if they separate us. A pair made of Aesir and Jotun is a rare thing, we’re too precious for them to let that happen.”

It all makes perfect sense, finally! Just with a bit of ground under his feet, Loki’s brain starts working again. Finally he knows what he’s dealing with, even if it’s not much.

“If we play along, they won’t separate us again.”

He feels the lack of motion behind his back and imagines the look on his brother’s face. Disgust, fear, anger...

All cards are finally uncovered, he’s got nothing else to loose and it terrifies him. The greatest of tricksters suddenly feels transparent like a sheet of glass.

“Please, brother, play along,” he whispers, because there’s nothing else he can say.

_Please, don’t leave me alone._

There’s no answer and it almost breaks him completely, but then there’s an arm that reaches over Loki and pulls him back, and another one sliding under his side and gripping him tight to the wide chest.

“I have not regretted it ever since,” is whispered harshly into his hair. It’s not a reassurance; it sounds more like an order, like an oath. It’s all the answer he needs.

Loki wants to laugh, a hysterical giggle builds somewhere on the bottom of his chest.

But a bitter sob escapes him first.

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Thor tries to keep up with everything that’s happening around him, but he is aware –always has been – that he’s not the fastest on in the pack.

No, maybe not that – he is intelligent, he is a god, there’s very little that will pass him by. But the fastest one in the pack has always been his brother – and that was admitted even by those who hated him. And when Loki decided to lead, all the rest of them could do was trying not to fall behind too much.

It took a long while for Thor to appreciate tactics his brother employed so often on the battlefield.  It took him too long, he thinks now, to understand exactly how many times these tactics saved his own life and how little of them he actually understood.

Were they dishonourable? Was being faster than your enemy – in body or mind – a fault of your own? Their father was renowned for his wisdom and clever plots – but were they anything more than tricks played on his opponents? Just tricks; and tricks usually started with lies... so it was only logical to assume that Odin is also a liar.

Of course he is, Thor thinks and the guilt hits him like a fist made of iron. Guilt for ever thinking it. Guilt for not noticing before.

Of course, their father is a liar. Wasn’t it he who told them that they were both destined to be kings? That they’re both equal in his eyes – when they certainly weren’t?

Thor knows that, he always knew, just didn’t pay enough attention. He always thought it’s because he is the older one, the more accomplished one...  that he’s better than Loki and, frankly, everyone else.  It was a bitter pill to swallow when it turned out how wrong he was.

He was a foolish boy, this time his father was right. A cruel, vain, foolish princeling that didn’t deserve half of what he’s got.

It isn’t a crisis of self-worth, Thor thinks, shading his eyes from the glare of the sun and sand, more like a revalidation of his self-perception. He was who he was and he was proud of it, but...

How come Odin never noticed? How could his all-seeing father not notice that his future heir was a self-absorbed ass and that his younger son was...

“ _I am Laufeyson.”_

Hearing it hurt almost as much as trying to hold Loki to his chest ; his Jotun body scalding Thor’s skin with cold. But he held on as long as he could, right until Loki noticed – and moved away, out of reach.

_“I am not your brother. I am a monster. I am a war trophy. I am a lie.”_

It hurt and he wanted to deny, to scream and rage and make it not to be the truth. But the truth was staring at him with red eyes full of pain and anger. He was too old for tantrums, too wise for denying what his own eyes were seeing.  He could not deny this time for it would make him a liar too, and Thor knew that his family doesn’t need any more of those.

It broke his heart, knowing that something of this magnitude was being kept from them their whole lives. And to discover it by accident?

Thor looks to Loki, all blue-skin and red-eyes, sitting opposite to him on the shaky cart, and swallows hard. Loki’s face is devoid of any emotions, his eyes barely open, shoulders slumped. He is tired, the heat doesn’t agree with Jotun disposition, is seems. It’s one of the reasons they got to ride on the wagon – slavers decided that they’re too precious to let them die.

Thor shakes with rage thinking about it. They’re a prize now, merchandise.  Things to be sold, like horses or goats... and only thing that keeps them together is a lie.

Another one. He is getting sick of them. 

Thor looks at his brother and wonders how it had to be for Loki to discover the truth. His real heritage. Alone and deserted by everyone, without friends, without Thor...

Or maybe that’s better. Because he doesn’t know how he would have reacted to such news at the time. As he was – foolish and hasty – he would probably overreact and cause his brother even more distress. He might have tried... he was rash, Jotun were all monsters to him, it would be just a matter of seconds before Mjolnir was in the air. 

So maybe it’s better that Loki was alone and father was there.

It was not _good_ by any measure, mother would deal with the matter much better, Thor was sure of it, but then Loki wouldn’t listen to her. Because it was always father’s attention they were competing for, his praise and love. And they were both so stupid, he knows now, because the competition was over before it has even started.

Because they were both born to be kings, but only one of them was meant to rule Asgard. 

It hurts, thinking about all this. Acknowledging that not all was good in the palace is another harsh lesson Thor has to endure.  The disappointment and the doubt, and anger. What else has he been lied to about?  How many secrets were being hidden from him by the well-meaning of his closest family?

It makes him sick to the stomach, thinking about it.

Or maybe it’s the heat? Even in the shade it’s unbearably hot, Thor doesn’t remember anymore how it is to not feel thirst or hunger. He is a shell of his former self and it pains him most of all. That he can’t fight and can’t get them out of here, can’t take is brother away from this cursed place and go home. Home, where he will ask his father some important questions and demand answers.

There’s still bad blood between him and Loki, that he’s aware of, he’s not an idiot; there are wounds that will take long to heal, mistrust and disappointment that they’ve put on hold for now. But it will rear its ugly head again and will have to be dealt with.

And they will deal with it – Thor swears to himself – enough lies and half-truths. They will cauterise these wounds even if it will take more fighting and pain to do so. He can’t live like this, can’t imagine being a king like this.

“I always imagined...” he says quietly, barely a sound. But he knows that Loki listens; if only from the slight movement of his head. “...that you will be there. When I am a king... that you will be by my side still...” So many times he’s tried to catch his brother’s eyes, so many times he’s failed. He doesn’t try anymore, he leaves Loki a choice. “I was always aware... that I will need your wisdom and advice. Give me some credit, brother, I know when I am being stupid.”

“You never... looked it,” Loki answer is a whisper.  The first sound he’s made since the sun has risen.

Thor chuckles, grateful for that small victory.

“Because it would look bad,” he admits. It’s hideous and harsh, but it’s the truth, “A king not knowing how to rule... I couldn’t. “

“You weren’t ready to rule,” Loki says and there’s an earnest feeling in his eyes. It’s almost like an apology. “You weren’t ready.”

“I know.”

And the worst part of it is that it is also truth.

“I know,” he repeats, his blue eyes boring into the red ones. “I knew then... but father thought I was and he... he was never wrong.”

This rips a bitter chuckle out of them both. An ugly, strange sound that Thor loathes instantly.

“I thought... I wanted to make him proud,” he finishes, lowering his eyes. “I wanted him to look upon me with pride.”

And he knows that Loki wants to hit him right now. He understands, he wants to hit himself too.

The rest of the day is shrouded in silence. They don’t touch and don’t speak.

The air between them seems heavier than ever.   

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

In the end Loki knows there’s nothing he can do to save them. And isn’t that a blow to his pride?

Without his magic he’s much more helpless than he’d like to admit. Slavers don’t speak in any language he knows, so there’s no point in trying to use his silver tongue. And this unfortunate turning into an ice giant makes him frighteningly susceptible to the heat – he can’t seem to think straight these days, can’t find strength in himself to do anything.

If they weren’t offered a ride on the wagon, Loki knows that he would die a while ago: unable to walk, unable to even breathe properly. If his mixed parentage ever seemed like a curse to him – it is now.

Thor is not faring much better; and it becomes clear in time that the shackles he was trapped under are meant to do more than just keep him from fighting. They sap his strength like Loki’s collar sapped his magic. They are both a tired, miserable mess.

At least the slavers decided to feed them better – which is still pathetically inadequate. They didn’t seem to care a lot about their cargo, only certain parts of it.

Caravan never stopped for more than few days at most. Loki started seeing a pattern after a while. Obviously these creatures were afraid that someone might catch up to them – which was easy to understand as most of their cargo seemed to come from kidnappings. There had to be at least few enraged people out there who would go to great lengths to retrieve their loved ones and friends. Every once in a while new... prey joined the caravan – creatures of all sizes and colours, some of them docile, some fighting. None of them humanoid.

That’s why they stuck together, Loki knows – him, his brother, Yr and a cat-woman. They are the only ones more or less ‘human’ and only ones seemingly cable to communicate with one another. The rest is just... animals. No help there.

But where was the caravan going to? What was waiting on the end of this road?

They all knew, but never spoke of it. It didn’t bear thinking.

Well, Loki thinks in his rare moments of lucidity, at least they won’t separate him and Thor. Whenever they will be shipped off to, it will be together.

And wasn’t that a marvel?

Just like that cursed trip to Jotunheim, just like countless other adventures that ended not-so-well – Loki was always dragged behind his brother and they always ended up in a ditch together.

Oh no, you idiot – some unknown part of him speaks uninvited. You were the one that went with your oaf of a sibling every time. You could’ve stayed behind just as easily. But you went after him.

And now he went after you and how does that feel?  

It feels like sand in his mouth, like pain in his tired body.

In the end, it didn’t matter who went after whom. They were together, all this time, as if they were meant to end-up together in whatever fashion fate designed for them. As enemies or friends, or brothers – or even mates, what a laugh – they could not seem to escape from one another.

Thor told him that he always expected Loki to stay by his side – whereas Loki always expected to stand in his shadow. And he knew he couldn’t, wouldn’t stay there, because it was a dark, and cold, and lonely place.

Now he thinks it might have been rather comfortable. Warm and safe, and... Standing in the shadow of a sun so bright can’t be that unpleasant, can it?

He’s a Jotun. He’s a Laufeyson. He’s a lie.

But he’s also Aesir. He’s also Odinson. And his truth is much worse.

Now Thor has seen through it, has seen his truth – and Loki never wanted that. Because now his brother was the one forced to lie.

“I haven’t regretted it ever since,” could not be so. It was another merciful lie his family was so apt at handing out. Another way of shifting guilt.

But in the end, it didn’t really matter. They are together in this and for some odd reason Loki finds it to be an entirely satisfying outcome.

*

In the end, it wasn’t anything they did that saved them.

It was an army of cat-faced people that appeared out of nowhere one night and were the swiftest killers Thor has ever seen. Armed with long knives and spears, sharp teeth and claws, they dispatched slavers in a matter of minutes – fast and nimble, and terrifying.

Thor didn’t have strength to move from his place next to the cart – he hasn’t got strength to move in a while now – but he had enough of it left to lift one arm and grab his brother’s ice-cold hand. The bite of Jotun body was dimmed, but chilling and somewhat grounding. Loki was sitting next to him and smiling, seemingly not noticing the hand gripping his, as if the battle it was his plan all along.

Thor wanted to fight, to help, to take his revenge for everything they’ve both suffered at the mercy of these vile creatures, but a hand landed on his arm and Yr murmured something that sounded like “Don’t”. So he didn’t.

Instead he watched the fire giant watching the little cat-woman as she stood as far away from the cart as her chain allowed and... roared.

There was no other word to describe it. Her face was suddenly set in a scary grimace, her posture even more regal than normally. And Thor understood then.

The fight didn’t last long. As the last shrieks of pain died under the starry, desert sky, cat-people turned to them. To their lady. There was a short scuffle among them before they parted and a big male stepped forward.

Thor had to admit he was an impressive warrior. Even less human than her, much bigger – almost as tall as Asgardians. His bare arms and chest were seemingly made of corded muscles and old scars; impressive golden mane rimmed his leonine face and fell down his back, full of beads and woven strings.

He was armed with a long knife that fell out of his hand as soon as his eyes fell on the lady in front of him. She raised her hands and he bowed his head and they rubbed their faces together. Quiet rumbling being the only sound between them.

Loki watched the cat-people and forced his brain to work. She was shorter, and he was much stronger, but they looked alike. The rest of the pack keept to the back and it would seem that they were the leaders. But there was something...

Oh.

Loki looked at his brother, who watched the scene mesmerised, then at the male cat and finally made the connection.

“Oh,” escaped him, quiet and shivering.

As if on signal, the cat-lady turned her head to him and hissed.

Mate. Brother. For her there was no difference, was it?

The strongest of the pack were meant to be together, equal.

So when she looked at them...

Loki stopped the thought right there – because there are things one can’t un-think.

Thor’s hand was gripping his, probably getting him a nice frost bite to add to the list of injuries. Stupid idiot.

Loki gripped back and tried not to think.

 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

They live in the desert. It makes sense, Loki thinks. It explains why the slavers were so reluctant to stay in one place for more than few days at a time.  They were afraid (and rightfully so) of the tribe they’ve wronged by kidnapping their princess.

And she was a princess. Well, maybe not exactly, but close enough. A mate of their leader and a strong ruler in her own right.

Loki wonders why he hasn’t seen it earlier. He’s got a good excuse of being more concerned about himself, of course (and his stupid sibling), but he’s Loki. It’s his business to know things.

But no matter now, he thinks. They’re safe. For now.

Cat-people are not exactly friendly, but they’re hospitable enough.

 _She_ is hospitable enough and they follow her lead. This is good enough for Loki at the moment.

They live in the caves at the far end of the desert; a rocky and weathered mountainside. It’s not as empty there, there’s grass and water and animals to hunt. The place is still hot and unfriendly, but it’s not un-habitable. Desert is just a step away with its’ scorching sun and dry wind, but in the farthest caves, in the middle of a mountain it’s cool and humid.  And Loki can finally think once more.

He doesn’t remember the way to this place; he was barely conscious, barely alive, trough the most of it. The sun and that damned magic collar sapped his strength enough to put him into a coma shortly after the rescue.

Cat-people didn’t have mages. But they’ve got, as he’s learned over time, excellent craftsmen. Still, he knows it wasn’t easy to get the cursed thing off him.

From what Loki understands, Thor’s chains were much easier to get rid of. As always, luck was favouring fools.

Thor told him later that his collar refused to be removed right until Yr (freed from his own shackles) melted it from his neck.

Loki has no clear memory of that. He remembers only scorching heat and kind yellow eyes. And pain. As if his body was being pulled apart by the returning powers, as if his own magic wanted to drown him in its’ flood. He remembers screaming and darkness after that.

_When he came to, he was laying in the nest made of furs and blankets, his body hurting, but this time it was a good pain. He reached out to his magic and it came to him readily. He barely refrained from crying._

_One look at his hands, though, was enough to tilt him over the edge._

_His hands weren’t blue anymore. They were still much paler than he remembered, with a greyish tint to them, but he was back to looking like himself again. Less like a monster._

_The relief was staggering. Knowledge that he won’t have to spend the rest of his life looking like a Jotun, like the freak of nature that he was._

_Loki barely had time to gather himself up when Thor appeared, bursting through the narrow entrance to the cave that was hidden behind a colourful curtain._

And, even now, days after that moment, Loki’s fist clench when he remembers it. The way he remembers his breath stopping short when he saw his brother _._

_His golden, smiling brother that still looked as haggard as ever, still malnourished and peeling from the sun._

_And covered in frostbite._

_His arms and hands and even one of his cheeks. Most of his chest was hidden under a plain, woven tunic, but Loki saw the bulges of bandages as clearly as if they were on display._

_The sight shocked him into sitting, into making a hissing sound of denial. There’s only one way this could’ve had happened and the fact that he doesn’t even **remember** awakened the deep-buried seed of panic in his chest. _

_“You idiot,” he greeted his sibling and it was the only thing that he could safely say._

_He felt panic and sorrow and anger at the same time. A taxing combination, but it also made him feel awake for the first time in a long while._

_Thor just looked at him and his smile softened, expression completely unapologetic._

_“You were trashing about,” he explained, coming closer. “I was afraid you’d do yourself harm.” He sat down opposite Loki and, in a display of embarrassingly touching care, righted the blankets disturbed by his brother’s trashing. “Someone had to hold you.”_

_And of course you’re the noble ass that volunteered first, Loki wanted to say, but didn’t._

_He’s had a half-thought to offer his thanks, but couldn’t._

_And Thor just handed him a water skin he brought with him. Loki took it without a word and when their fingers touched, he was the one to jerk back._

_At this point he couldn’t burn anyone with his touch anymore, he knew, but it was hard habit to break._

_Thor just sat there and stared._

_And Loki said the only thing he could safely say._

_“Idiot.”_

_*_

It was no more than a few days ago and now he’s mostly back in form.  He is still thin and weathered, but his magic slowly builds up to its typical level and his skin gets pinker and warmer with every passing day.

Thor is also slowly regaining his strength, even if he’s still too thin and gangly. He tires fast these days and they both know it will take some time for his Asgardian metabolism to get over the trauma and kick-start in gear.  As it is, they both stay in the caves, cared for and provided by the tiny cat-people who stare at them and murmur among themselves.

Loki doesn’t mind. He’s used to being whispered about and this time there’s at least a valid reason for it. When he arrived he was blue, now he isn’t, they seem to find it interesting. And as much as he is the subject of observation, he also observes and learns.

The tribe is a strictly hierarchical structure, lead by one mated pair that seems to be the strongest. There are more females than males and they take it upon themselves to hunt and fight. Males seem to be kept inside and protected – from what Loki has managed to glimpse. It makes sense; again, as the tribe needs to keep their numbers and it would be all too easy to lose a generation because of a stupid hunting accident.

It makes sense then, why the cat-lady took such an interest in Thor’s wellbeing.  His brother does look like the young males of the tribe: big and strong and fair haired. He has a strong-built face and his displeasure is often expressed by a series of truly animalistic growls. He fits the bill.

She is a mother, Loki discovers, she has at least eight children that she grooms thoroughly and with care. Her oldest one is a male – a carbon copy of his father. It is to be expected.

Said father doesn’t approach them, Loki notes. He seems to happily ignore the strangers as long as they keep their distance from him and his children. The children, though, have a different opinion on the matter.

That also does not surprise Loki in the slightest.


	10. Chapter 10

The cat-people are not overly friendly, but good and honourable. Their cat-lady is a real Lady and that doesn’t surprise Thor as much as it should. She is a queen and he wonders why he hadn’t seen it earlier.

Looking at her now, surrounded by her pack, close to her mate, she reminds Thor of Mother, regal and strong, but oh so soft and beautiful.

He is surprised, though, when she presents them her children. All eight of them.

Thor can’t help but laugh when they clamber all over him and sniff at his hair and pull at his fingers, half-fascinated and half-disappointed when it turns out that he doesn’t have claws like them. They look at him with pity and he remembers their mother’s clawless, scarred hands. His heart clenches.

Loki seems amused by the attention he gets from the young kittens and swiftly steps aside every time one of them looks like it wants to climb on _him_. But he stays close to Thor and for that, the Thunderer is grateful. They’re still not good enough to wander about alone – he justifies his relief, - his brother is still weakened and Thor himself heals very slowly, his strength not yet returned to him.

When the heavy chains and shackles finally came off him, Thor felt closer to death than ever before. It hurt almost as much as physical wounds. But it was a good pain – refreshing after such long period of numbness and weariness. It was a pain of returning breath and blood flowing back into stiff members. Life.

But he barely stopped himself from screaming – enough shame, he’s got enough. Just this once, finally, in front of the little cat-lady and her tribe, he would try to regain a bit of the lost dignity.

As much as it hurt him, Thor suspected that it was a least thrice worse for his brother. His proud sibling, much prouder than anyone Thor’s ever known, screamed and trashed when the enchanted collar was being taken off his neck.

Looking at him now, it’s easy to banish these images and sounds from his memory. It will be even easier once the frostbite heals on his body and Loki’s eyes stop stealing pained glimpses at Thor’s damaged flesh.

Thor knows he will heal, it was his own decision and it just had to be done – he wouldn’t let anyone else close to Loki when he was so vulnerable anyway. There’s no blame in his mind.

They mostly rest now, trying to regain their strength and not thinking what they will do with it.  They sleep in the small cave that the Lady graciously ceded to them. They don’t touch anymore and it worries Thor, that Loki escapes his touch – he can’t seem to catch his brother off guard enough to clap him on the shoulder or check the healing wounds on his neck. It distresses him, the sight of his only sibling pulling away, as nothing has ever did.

But he doesn’t push. Doesn’t pull Loki to himself. He’s learned his lesson.

He just gives his brother space and time and choice. Choice that he’s never even considered missing before the faithful day of his coronation.

In the meanwhile he is amused by the ever-eager kittens that trail after him like a flock of ducklings and seem to be interested in everything he does. He would go crazy from the idleness, if not for them. He is a warrior and a prince, but he finds completely no shame in watching over a group of children while they play hide-and-chase in the caves or tousle with each other in the tall grass outside. He breaks more serious fights, provides a willing pray/climbing post every once in a while and when they find a small pond, teaches them how to throw stones at the water to make them skipp on the surface. It is the least he can do to repay for their mother’s kindness.

It is all for his sake as well as his honour.

He needs distraction while he heals, while they heal. He needs to stop thinking about the bleak future that stretches before him and his brother.

With Bifrost destroyed, there’s no hope of returning home. Without Mjolnir, Thor is less powerful than he would like to be. They don’t know where they are, – this place looks like none of the Realms Thor knows. While they were trapped, he’s sworn to himself that he will take care of things; that he will make everything alright again.

He doesn’t even know where to start and that knowledge is crushing.

Only thing he knows that he can do is staying strong for Loki. He will wait for his brother, he will make sure that the feud that brought their lives to this will be resolved. He can’t stand the thought of being enemies with his sibling. He just can’t.

 

*

 

“Your brother missed... meal again...”

The kittens scrambled away when hushed voice of the fire giant reached their ears. Thor turned his head, welcoming Yr with a slight smile and went back to watching his wards trying to hide in the tall grass. As much as they seemed to like Thor, they were still wary of the fire giant who their mother refused to leave with the rest of saved creatures.

Thor suspected that the unusual colouring of his companion played a part in that.  

“He does that,” he shrugged. “Loki has never been overzealous in his eating habits. My brother is picky, but requires little substance to keep himself alive.”

Of course, compared to Asgardians. Set against Midgarians, they were all pigs.

“He should... eat... while he... can,” stated the giant, crouching next to Thor in an easy manner. “He is... even more... slight... than you.”

Thor found himself laughing quietly. Of course he looked ‘slight’ next to the nine-foot tall giant that fed on sun and heat, everyone did.

“Jotun... don’t feel hunger.... when it’s... hot. You better... make sure... he eats.”

At this Thor tensed and barely refrained from making a sound of denial.

Loki was a Jotun, it was a fact and he could not fight it. But it still jarred when he was reminded of it. It made him feel the healing frostbite burn his flesh all the more. Yr had to realise this because he shifted slightly and added in a hushed voice:

“Your brother... is an... unusual Jotun.”

“That he is,” Thor managed to choke out. “He is an unusual... creature, my brother.”

“He is... a good... brother, though.”

At that he had to smile sadly.

“He is...” and the lie stuck in his throat. “He was, at least. A long time ago.” Yellow eyes looked at him in surprise and Thor lowered his own to stare at the red dirt covering his bare feet. “But I was an awful brother for far longer than that,” he whispered. “I was a blind fool I accused our father of being.”

He didn’t know why he' s said that, why reveal his failure to the giant who knew nothing of what they were. It didn’t make him feel better, it just stung his throat and eyes.

Yr shifted next to him again, and Thor expected him to stand up and go, uncomfortable with the unexpected reveal of deeply personal issues.

But he didn’t. One big hand rested on Thor’s shoulder instead, covering half of it, and it squeezed lightly, mindful of its’ strength and healing wounds under it.

“Brothers fight,” there was something strange in the yellow eyes when Thor lifted his head to look into them.  For the first time he could hear a sparkle of steel in the hushed, slightly stilted voice of the fire giant that’s become his friend. “That’s what they... do. It’s... hard... to have a... strong brother... To see that strength... for something good.”

The moment was destroyed when one of the kittens decided that enough is enough and threw herself at Thor’s back, tackling him to the ground. He, of course, allowed himself to be tackled and even pretended to struggle a little while trying to avoid her needle-sharp claws. When the dust finally settled and he's managed to wrestle the little lady under his arm while being cheered on by the rest of the brood, the fire giant was nowhere to be seen.

But Thor was nowhere near forgetting his words. 

 

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

It’s hard to have a strong brother.

Of course it is. Of course it is hard to accept on so many levels. Especially when said sibling is the precious younger brother who can’t keep his tongue behind his teeth and always seems to get into trouble with people. Who is so awkward socially, but covers it all so splendidly that no one never realises... no one who isn’t privy to the way Loki relaxes when he’s finally left alone.

Who grows up to be a man of his own making, following the rules he himself understands, using the power that’s only his. He is strong, and he is strange, and Thor is faced with the fact that it’s not the little brother he knows anymore. Not a little brother that admires and follows him anywhere without comment, that doesn’t need his protection anymore.

It is hard to watch your sibling grow up strong, oh how well he knows that.

*

It was very easy to fall in line with the life of the tribe. It was, after all, a simple, but fulfilling life. Waking up with the sun, taking care of normal everyday’s matters. Half of the tribe going to hunt and the rest going about their day. Calm. Peaceful. Craftsmen making pots, fabrics, and weapons. Warriors either practicing or gathering together to tell stories, minding the kittens that seemed to be everywhere at once.

Loki noted with amusement that his brother vary fast became the provider of the last duty. Kittens seemed to love Thor from the first sight and crowded to him at every occasion they’ve got. The youngest climbed him like a tree to sit in his shoulder and watch the world from the considerable height or sink their tiny claws into his short hair. Older ones were like a small tribe all by themselves, always trying to pull the stranger into their mock fights and chases.  

The oldest kittens, almost young adults, were trying hard to pretend that it didn’t appeal to them in any way. Following the example of the teenagers in all Nine Realms, they were trying to seem not bothered and not interested – all the time watching Thor from the corners of their eyes and yearning to be younger and less dignified.  

It was all hilarious in its own way.

Loki has made it clear from the start that he doesn’t like to be crowded and won’t take nicely to any attempted climbing/jumping/tackling of his person. Maybe it was the fact that he is so different from his brother, maybe it was the fact that he’s half-Jotun and smells differently to them, but he was mostly left alone. By everyone. It suited him.

That the tribe was not interested in him didn’t mean that he wasn’t interested in them, though. Loki has spent most of his time observing the life happening around him.  It was so much healthier to watch and catalogue than sit in his cave and brood, consumed by the thoughts of... before.

It was easier to avoid Thor and any heartfelt conversations his brother wanted to pull him into.

The thing was, Loki was lost. His magic came back to him in small portions, steadily, but slowly. He felt stronger every day, his skin was back to the colour he’s used to be. He was not starving anymore, not so thirsty that he couldn’t think straight – cat Lady has made sure that they’re feed well. Her all-encompassing maternal instinct seemed to be working overtime since they’ve been freed.

It was interesting how she acted as if he and Thor were a part of her brood, as if she’s adopted them into the family. It wasn’t the same with Yr who she treated more like a close friend than an actual child.

Maybe it was her way of staying sane while captive, Loki wondered, building a provisional pack around her? The same way Thor tried to fight their captors till his body gave out. The same way Loki listened to these damn chains to make sure he’s not alone...

And there he was again. Thinking about things that confused him.

The thing is, he didn’t even know what’s happened to him... then. It may be the captivity and prolonged torture that left him feeling less than he should about the past. Maybe. What he knows for sure is that everything was happening so fast – Thor’s failed coronation, that damned trip to Jotunheim, Thor banished, him turning into a frost giant, Father’s sleep and then just _keep at the top of it, don’t let them drag you down, finally you have what you've always wanted and oh gods Thor will be back and everything will be ruined...!_

He knew that he was not thinking straight, Hela’s Bosom, he knew it _then_! He was aware of it being pure madness and went with it anyway!

Because there was no other way, no other doors open to him: a monster, a second son, not important enough to forgive his trespasses.

It was not so, he knew, but still...

“I did not expect seeing you here, brother.”

Loki almost jumped to his feet when Thor’s thundering voice filled the cave. As it was, he also almost drowned himself by sliding deeper into the pond he was laying in, idling. He just about managed to keep still and turn his head slowly just in time to see his brother entering the cave half-naked, a woven tunic hanging off one tanned arm. His first instinct was to flee, to get away before Thor decided it’s time for them to talk about... matters.

But a bit of his old self – the one that wasn’t a cowardly, resentful wretch – woke up suddenly and told him firmly to sit on his ass and at least try to act like a man. Like an Odinson. Like a brother of this man who jumped after him into the abyss.

“The day is hot,” Loki answered, leaning back on the stone edge of the pond, chiselled smooth by the years of use. The cave was big, but empty this early in the day; it was getting more populated closer to the evening when cat-people came to escape the burning sun and relax.  Natural light was pouring into the cavern trough few holes made in the high ceiling; it was not bright in there, but also not dark. A pleasant halfway trough. “Where else would you expect me to be?”

Sadly, even in his normal... usual body, Loki felt the effects of his bloodline quite acutely. He was susceptible to the heat more than ever: it made him slow and tired; not the bone-crushing, brain-melting tiredness of before, but still nothing pleasant. During the hottest parts of the day he was easily found in this place, trying to cool down.

Today he was early because he wanted to think uninterrupted.

Figures that his fate still hated him.

Thor took off his clothes and slid into the pond not that far from Loki, but not close either, surprisingly respecting his need for personal space. That was new – but not that much. Lately Thor seemed content to let Loki be most of the time, whereas one year ago the man didn’t even seem to understand the concept of “personal space”.

Another thing to add to his ‘Pleasant, but simultaneously distressing changes in Thor Odinson’s behaviour’ list.

Loki didn’t make a secret of the way his eyes searched Thor’s chest and arms, scanning them for scars left after the frostbite. They were thankfully gone, his brother’s skin back to its’ healthy, golden-brown shade. Good. One less proof of being a monster staring Loki right in the eyes.

“I trust you’ve had an interesting morning, playing tag with the children,” Loki teased, because he couldn’t start by himself. He knew that they have to talk, but he won’t be the one to start it, it was always easier to just react.

“They are the liveliest bunch,” Thor replied with a small smile. “And I’ve heard that you’ve had much fun yesterday, bothering weavers into letting you observe their work.” Blue eyes crinkled with amusement when he added: “Mother would be proud.”

And suddenly the cool water turned even colder.

There can be no jokes between them, Loki realised with dawning horror, not until the air is clear. Until that happens every word will have barbs and sharp edges to cut and sting. For both of them it seems, because Thor’s smile faltered and finally died.

“I would not think so,” Loki said quietly. “She may feel many things, but I would not count on pride.”

The smile he gave his brother was fake and ugly, and made Thor start minutely. He looked like he didn’t expect Loki to pick up the gauntlet this time. There was a touch of fear in his gaze, of regret, but then it all got swept up in a flood of relief. 

“No, maybe not pride now,” Thor admitted, quietly, carefully. So unlike him. Or maybe not, maybe _exactly_ like him because of all things he would be, Thor Odinson was above all else _honest_. “But always love. From her and from Father alike.”

Oh, going straight for the kill, brother, that’s admirable.

 The worst thing for Loki was that it wasn't hard to believe that Odin loved him in some way. No, the worst was that even this love seemed to be conditional.

“Yes, Father has reasons for everything.”  

Stolen relic. War trophy. Enemy’s heir.

“If he wanted to use you, don’t you think that he could do better?”

That pushed Loki out of his funk and caused him to stare at his brother in surprise. Of all the things to hear, this was... unexpected.

“Why wait so long?” Asked Thor, not looking at him. “Why keep you in the dark and unaware? Father is not infallible, but he _knows_ things and... no matter how I look at this... there was no plan there. And I know that, brother, that if It was me in his place...”

“You would not tell me either,” Loki finished, his voice barely a whisper. Sudden anger flooded his veins and it was such a refreshing feeling that he welcomed it with open arms. Of course Thor wouldn’t tell him! It seems that his entire family is made of liars and cowards! What a relief! “Of course you wouldn’t tell me!” he sneered. “All those misguided attempts to protect me! I feel honoured!”

“No, Loki, I would do it to protect myself!” Thor raised his voice to cut in mid-rant. “Us. If you knew, you would despair. And it would eat at us all and change everything, and the knowledge would drive you away. And I wouldn’t... not have you in my life.”

Those blue eyes were boring into his and it didn’t help that Loki saw an absolute honesty in them. It just grated more, that his brother... that the fool could say things like that and mean them, and not even concern himself with the selfishness of it all.

“So you would lie to me to keep me from ever changing? To keep me by your side, in your shadow? Lie to me about what I am?!”

He wanted to go then. Stand up and go. It was not what he wanted to hear and it didn’t do anything to make the pain stop. To know that his own brother, his closest friend...

But before he had a chance to escape strong hand grabbed his arm and held him in place. Thor leaned in closer and didn’t look away.

“I would not have you hurting so,” his voice was a pained rasp, “by _any_ means necessary! I would not have this... this broken thing that was once our family! I would not have us fighting each other like enemies! And you, brother... Wouldn’t you be happier if you didn’t know?”

Thor looked, just looked at him, and it felt as if he was staring at Loki’s very soul. As if he saw that soul, knew of its existence. It was scary, because for the longest time no one was even remotely interested in it.

And Loki had to admit, even if it pained him, that yes, he would be happier. It would still be an unhappy life, but at least he would keep his sanity and pretend that there’s nothing wrong with him. It would still hurt to be overlooked and undervalued, but at least he would be allowed to think that he can change that if he tries hard enough.

Now? It was too late to change anything. And it was too late to know exactly how much he was valued by the person he resented the most.

“How can you be so?” he asked, because Thor’s question didn’t need an answer. Oh, damn, his eyes were tearing up again. Curses! “How can you forgive all I’ve done so easily? All I’ve planned to do. How can you forget about it just like that?”

He wanted to know. Had to know. Because there was a little part of him that was awed by his brother, always has been, even when he didn’t want to be. But that part was there since forever, it was a constant and only thing Loki could hold on to now when everything went to Hel.

“I haven’t forgiven you, brother. Nor did I forget.”

That answer startled Loki. That little part of him flickered like a candle on the wind.

“But I don’t hold it against you either.”

And that was just illogical.

“But... what?” Woe the day when the oaf turns out to be more eloquent than him!

“Everything that’s happened was a result of mistakes every one of us committed. Me, you, Father... even Mother,” Thor explained patiently, kindly, painfully. “I won’t hold it against you.”

Loki didn’t know how to respond when Thor released his arm – was he holding it still? – and moved back a little. As his gaze shifted, fell down to stare at the water and his whole posture seemed to shrink. His strong shoulders suddenly turning hunched and small.

“But it hurt...” his voice was barely a whisper. “When I stood before the Destroyer... it hurt.”

As far as Loki could remember, he’s never heard Thor complain about the pain. Never, in **millenia**. And so it made him want to shout with joy and at the same time bash his head against the stone behind his back.

He’s hurt Thor! – cried a part of him, cheering and feeling accomplished. He’s managed to do it!

He’s hurt Thor! – the rest of him whimpered in dread. He’s hurt his brother.

No, he didn’t, he _killed_ his brother! 

He killed Thor, who didn’t hold it against him.

He didn’t realise there were tears on his cheeks before he felt salt on his lips. Damn it, he was always so emotional, wasn’t he? His damned eyes just could not stay dry! When the first sob tore itself from his chest, Loki was seriously considering laying down in the water and drowning... when the truth hit him again, more insistent this time.

 **_He has killed his brother_ ** _._

...what could possibly hurt more than that? Than standing in front of the death-machine that was Destroyer and knowing that behind the metal mask there’s a person you love the most? Sentencing you to death – without any explanation, without a goddamn word!

What could Thor ever do to him that would equal that?!

“It’s okay... Loki, it’s...”

“No, it’s not!”

And now his brother had short hair and Norns knew how long it will take him to grow them back! Loki couldn’t stand them, but he treaded his fingers through them all the same, crushing Thor to his chest, head to his shoulder.

And now he was a mess, real mess, sobbing and choking on the tears and so utterly sick of hating everything in his life.

_He’s tried to kill his goddamn brother!_

No amount of resentment and jealousy could excuse that. Because for every ounce of hatred for Thor, there was twice as much love. And he knew that if their roles were reversed, he wouldn’t be able to forgive, he would go mad from pain and betrayal.

The sole fact that Thor is able to get over it – to still love him, to stand by him, to jump into the abyss after him – is staggering. It makes the Liesmith sob even harder, hold onto his sibling even stronger.

“It’s not okay,” he could barely speak between the choking spasms that wrecked his whole body. “It’s... not! You fool... you absolute fool... why didn’t… you... run? Why... didn’t you... you idiot... how can you... it’s not alright! It will... never... be... alright...!”

Thor was quiet. Maybe he couldn’t breathe? Squeezed so hard, trapped in the steel trap of his brother’s arms. Maybe. It wasn’t important.

*

Thor was quiet. Cheek crushed to Loki’s pale shoulder and arms immobile in the vice-like grip, he didn’t really have much field for manoeuvre. But it wasn’t important.

They’ve finally reached some kind of understanding. Even if it took them months of torture and a bathtub, even if they were clinging to each other like scared children, naked and shaking. It was still better than the empty silence of before. It was still preferable.

Even thin fingers pulling at his hair and scratching at his scalp, even tears and snot, and wet, chocked breaths in the crook of his neck. Even the pain and embarrassment of hearing his brother – always so composed, always eloquent – babbling like a baby, expelling poison from his heart with every word that escaped his lips.

It was still better than not having him at all.  

 *

They did not speak of it again.

After Loki calmed down they just washed, dried themselves and left the cave to go separate ways; Thor was immediately surrounded by a pack of little cat warriors and Loki, surprisingly, smiled at the scene. He was still raw inside, still in pain, but he felt a little lighter, a little less like a shadow. He left his brother at the mercy of the children and found himself a quiet place where he could nurse his battered pride in peace – one of the caves, high up the mountain's wall, overlooking the common yard ways down.  

It was alright, he thought. It was okay. They were okay; they were together, safe and sound.

Thor was almost completely healed and Loki was in good enough shape to practice little harmless tricks with his magic. Just to check how far he can go.

Nothing big, nothing overly complicated. Butterflies and fishes made of sand and wind, fantastical creatures that floated around him, testing his concentration. It felt good to use his magic, to have it at the tips of his fingers, ready for the call. It wasn’t the first time he was using it since the collar went off his neck, but for the first time it felt...  easy. Safe. Lulling him to sleep with gentle pull of warm wind. 

 

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end is here! Happy Ending and all that. This has started as a miniFILL and, well, grew from there. Hope you all liked it^^

It was not a closure, he knew that. Not yet.

The matter was still not resolved, there was still much to be said between them. But now they have time – Thor has made sure they have time for talking, for trying to do better. The meltdown in the pond was just the first step; if anything, it brought them back on one level where they could communicate without fear of being misunderstood.

Without fear, period.

It was a relief to know that Loki didn’t hate him after all, that the madness was real and in the past. Because if there was one thing Thor has feared during these horrendous past months, it was that Loki did not regret ordering his death. He did not hope for guilt in his brother, not for that crushing kind of regret that Loki obviously harboured, but he didn’t know how to take it if his brother was indifferent.

It would crush him, Thor knew, it would be... it did not bear thinking about.

Now that they were far from home, with the Bifrost destroyed, when they can rely only on each other. There was nothing else to hold on to.

Sometimes he woke up at night and couldn’t fall asleep again. Sometimes he listened to his brother’s steady breathing in the other end of a lair they were granted, but more often he was getting up and walking out. Past the caves, past the yard, past the grassy fields. The river that run outside of the tribe’s home was shallow and muddy, but at night it wasn’t so apparent. Starlight shone off the water’s surface and Thor was almost painfully reminded of home.

Sometimes he sat on the bank throughout the night, looking at the stars and trying to remember where the Asgard was, her golden towers and brave people. Was his Mother worried? Of course she was, she loved them both and it was impossible for her not to worry. Was Father worried? Disappointed? Angry?   

Thor found that he didn’t really care for his sire’s anger. He had so many questions to ask him and doubted that even half of them will be answered. As always. Father and Loki were so very much alike, it was a shame that they didn’t see it themselves.

He was mostly worried about the Mother, and Sif, and Warriors Three. It was a shameful thing to leave them like that, without a word of reassurance. But then again, he didn’t exactly plan to destroy the Bifrost and jump off the edge.

Sometimes he asked the stars: “Do you see us?”

Are you watching Heimdall? Were you always watching? Why didn’t you say something?

On few rare occasions Thor wasn’t alone. He could hear heavy steps on the sandy bank; feel a great body lowering itself to sit next to him. He could feel the warmth radiating from the skin of the fire giant that someway became his friend. 

They rarely spoke, opting instead to look at the sky and dream of homes they left behind, but sometimes they did.

“Do you wish to come back?”

“I have nothing... to go back... to. Here... is good.”

Thor agreed with Yr, here was a good place. Cat-people were good and brave, and their Lady was so much like Mother. She treated Thor and Loki as if they were already a part of their pack. Yr...

 Yr she treated like a brother.

“Your brother... seems... better. He eats.”

“Yes, he does,” Thor had to smile at that. “We... talked. And we came to understanding.”

Yr nodded his head and made a quiet ‘hmm’ of approval.

Sometimes it hit Thor how ridiculous his life has become. There he was, sitting on the bank of a river in some forgotten part of the galaxy, in a company of a real fire giant. Trying to solve his personal problems in the middle of the night and serving as a climbing post to the gang of tiny cat-faced children during the day. It made him smile, it made him laugh quietly and he could never explain it properly to Yr, so he ignored raised eyebrows and just laughed.

He was happy, surprisingly. His heart still hurt, but he was happy.

*

The moment Loki knew that everything changes was the moment his powers came back to him fully.

He was not the weakened, scared creature anymore. He was not useless.

And most of all, he was not dependent on the Bifrost to go back home. He could find his way out of this realm and literally go wherever he wanted.

The thing was, he didn’t want to.

Because there was no home for him in Asgard. There was Mother he loved and knowledge he’s left behind, but he had no illusions that he would be welcomed into the palace. Long before that damn disaster, long before the madness took hold, Asgard already had no love for him. She was more of a prison than a home.

He still missed her; a foolish, childish memory of times long past, of safety and belonging.

No, it was not his home anymore.

But it was Thor’s.

And Loki knew that even if his brother seemed happy where he was, he still missed the place that loved him so fiercely. He knew, in his heart, that it was a cruel thing to do, to keep him away from it.

In Loki’s eyes Thor was not only the son of the King, not only the son of their Mother – he was the son of all Asgard, the shining, prefect crowning moment of the Realm, its’ very essence in human form.

Yes, when he was a small child, he was in love in his older brother’s image. Yes, he was making the image bigger and better in his own head not knowing that this way the disappointment has lain. Yes, he was still embarrassed in front of himself of how foolish he’s been and how long it took him to recover from it.

He knew better now – better than anyone else, – that his brother was just a man. But it was something that he was unable to fight off, – that deeply rooted conviction that Thor belonged to Asgard.    

And that was the only reason for Loki to follow his brother on the night when he couldn’t sleep. Quiet as a shadow, he followed Thor to the river. His heart clenched painfully when the man looked up to the sky.

“I can take you there,” he’s said before even thinking about it. Words just fell out of his lips.

Thor didn’t look startled by his presence, probably aware of being followed. But he looked up to see Loki standing over him with hope in his eyes.

“Can you?” And there was a breathless kind of surprise in his voice.

“Of course I can,” Loki had to consciously try to sound unaffected by the naked awe he was being regarded with. “You don’t think I would accept being dependent on Heimdall’s good will, do you?”

“Of course not,” Thor’s voice was amused now. “Especially since you like each other so very much.”

Loki shifted his stance and cleared his throat. Yes, there was no love lost between him and the Gatekeeper. One more reason to stay clear of Asgard for a while.  

“Does that mean you are feeling better now?”

What does it have to do with... ah. Of course, he forgot. Thor cared.  

“I can take you home,” Loki repeated, looking at the sky himself. “It won’t be easy, but I am fairly sure that I can find a way to get there. Yggdrasil has many roots, but they’re not that hard to make sense of... are you laughing?”

“I am sorry, brother,” Thor was definitely laughing. “But only you can say that and mean it.”

 “Well, it is not my fault that the rest of Asgard is too stupid to find their way out of a woven sack and needs another to open the door for them, is it?” It was good to joke like that again. It felt... right. “I can find you a way home.” He repeated the offer for the third time and fell silent after that.

Thor was silent too, which was frankly distressing. Shouldn’t he jump at the chance of going back home? Of seeing his friends and family? Of going back to his old life? He shouldn’t be sitting here and mulling over it when Loki just proposed to make his wish come true! 

When Loki was ready to open his mouth and demand an answer, it came in a form of a quiet, but sure:

“I would rather you didn’t.”

And, just like that, everything fell apart. Ground was yet again yanked out from under Trickster’s feet and it was Thor’s strong grip on his shoulders that stopped him from swaying.

“Not home, not yet.” His brother demanded, “Take us somewhere else, Loki.”

Take them somewhere else?

Them.

Us.

Oh.

 *

Cat Lady was not surprised when they've decided to leave. She was not happy, though. She circled them and touched them, rubbed her nose over their faces and Loki was absolutely floored by the amount of genuine care she showed him. He was aware that her sympathy streached mostly in Thor’s direction, he always thought that she accepts him for his brother’s sake... It was hard to believe it when her small, clawless, but strong fingers dived into his dark hair and brushed them aside, scratching gently behind his ears.

It was humbling and he could feel tears gathering in his eyes. He fell on his knees in front of her and gathered her small hands, lifting them to his lips. He may have been born a monster, but he was raised a prince, and that was something he was loathe do discard. He waved a little spell into the kiss, just a whisper, nothing more.

But he made sure that it won’t take more than a month for her claws to grow back. For all she’s done for them it was a small thing to do, but he couldn’t come up with anything else.

The kittens were crestfallen. They crowd behind the Lady and looked at Thor with mournful eyes, the smallest ones were sniffing lightly.

Loki looked up to Thor after his brother has finished paying his own respects to the Lady and wondered how was he able to smile trough all of it. Then the Thunderer kneeled once again and spread his arms and the kittens rushed to clamber all over him as if their tails were set on fire.

It was heartbreakingly hilarious, and for a moment Loki felt a little better about his own childish worship of his brother. Clearly, Thor had that effect on all children, it was good to know.    

Yr was quiet by their side. He clasped hands with Thor and offered him a smile. The he turned to Loki and looked at him for a long while before speaking:

“Strange ice Jotun... you are... but... a good person... all the... same.”

Trickster tried not to look away and answered in kind:

“And for a fire Jotun, you are not that ugly.”

They clasped hands and it didn’t hurt. He could hear the Lady telling Thor quietly “Take ...care... of mate,” before they stepped back and Loki called on his magic.

No, it didn’t hurt at all.  

*

Jane Foster is surprised and distrustful of Loki, but Thor smiles at her and she takes them in. Her friends are happy to see the God of Thunder; Eric Selvig clasps his arm like an old companion and the chatty girl, Darcy, points at them both with a strange little device and orders them to smile.

Loki is not really sure what’s going on.

But not long after that they’re sitting in a place where the food is served and he gets a sip of that delightful drink. Loki has a second to feel embarrassed when Thor grabs his wrist at the last moment to stop him from shattering the empty cup on the floor.

“They don’t do it here,” he explains and Jane Foster smiles at him with pure adoration. Thor smiles back, but when she turns away, he looks to Loki and they both roll their eyes.

Midgarians and their strange customs. It will take a while to get used to them.

But they have all the time in the world now, don’t they? 

 

 

 

 


End file.
